


Your Heart Was Glass, I Dropped It

by mrsbonniemellark



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Based on a Taylor Swift Song, F/M, Witch!Katniss, human!peeta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-17 18:35:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29104923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrsbonniemellark/pseuds/mrsbonniemellark
Summary: In New York City in 1922, Katniss and Peeta are dancing at a jazz club. Peeta has a question for Katniss, who is keeping a secret from him. Based on the song "Champagne Problems," by Taylor Swift and inspired by the Diviners series by Libba Bray.
Relationships: Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark
Comments: 10
Kudos: 47





	Your Heart Was Glass, I Dropped It

_ Because I dropped your hand while dancing/ Left you out there standing / Crestfallen on the landing / Champagne problems /Your mom’s ring in your pocket / My picture in your wallet / Your heart was glass, I dropped it _

**New York City, 1922**

Mr. Abernathy’s speakeasy in the back of his restaurant is the hottest place in town these days. He plays the piano up on stage while various musicians join him to make the best jazz music there is.

Peeta Mellark and I swing around the dance floor, hand in hand. I met him here, he was one of the bartenders on a night that I was singing here. He’s a great dancer, and even better company, so he easily persuaded me to go on a real date.

My hands are sweating in my elbow-length white silk gloves, and I can see Peeta is starting to as well. We cut up quite the rug though, and we won’t stop until the song is over.

The next song is a slower one and I let out a breath. I’m adjusting my arms so that Peeta and I can slow dance together when a hole in my glove catches on Peeta’s watch.

It’s enough. The bare skin contact with his watch gives me visions of Peeta: he’s sketching something, me as I sleep, and then tucks the picture into his wallet. His mother giving him a small box, him tucking it in the pocket of his jacket. Peeta buying a bottle of champagne from Mr. Abernathy, who refuses the money and says “Good luck, kid.”

My head is spinning as I come back to the present, my hand clenched tightly on Peeta’s arm. “Katniss?” He says, his eyes full of concern. “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” I say. “Everything’s jake. Excuse me.” I drop his hand and all but run through the crowd, trying to get as far away from Peeta as I can because I pieced together the visions. Peeta loves me and wants to marry me.

And that can’t happen. I can never marry a human.

  
  
  


That night, I perch on the fire escape outside the window of Peeta’s apartment. I spent some of the happiest nights of my life in these rooms, and now I’ll never set foot in there again.

Peeta sits on his couch, the ring box open on his coffee table. He’s opened the champagne and is drinking it straight out of the bottle, his eyes red. His record player plays a tune I recognize as one we’ve danced to before and I imagine this scene as he must have: the two of us dancing in his apartment with friends and his parents as we drink champagne and celebrate our engagement. The wedding that would follow, children even one day. And all of that, gone.

I bring my fist to my mouth and stifle a scream but I must not do a good job because Peeta glances up and our eyes meet for a moment. I’m fast, faster than a human, and I’m on the fire escape a floor above Peeta’s in a flash.

I take deep breaths, hugging my arms around my middle, and try and pull myself together.  _ I shouldn’t have come here _ , I think.  _ But I couldn’t stay away. _

Peeta’s window opens with a loud creak and he leans out, “Katniss?”

I don’t move. I don’t breathe. My heart speeds up in my chest as I peer down at him between the bars of the fire escape. His hair glows in the dim streetlights and I long to touch it, to brush it back from his forehead like I used to do without a thought.

“I saw you,” he says with a sigh. “If you’re still there, can we talk?”

I don’t respond. I can’t. “I guess I’ll talk then,” he says and he climbs out onto the fire escape and sits on the landing. “I love you so much it scares you, I know that. But I can’t stop.”

He rests his head in his hands then and is quiet for a long time. “I just want to be with you, Katniss,” he says, so quietly that I wouldn’t have heard it with human ears.

I stand then, and walk down the stairs with my silent tread, coming to a stop before him. I drop to my knees, still in the silvery gown and white gloves I wore to the jazz club. I pull his hands away from his face then and grip them in mine.

“I’m sorry, Peeta,” I say. “I’m a witch.” The last part comes out on a sob and Peeta inhales sharply. 

“On the level?” He says, looking into my eyes intently. I nod and he sighs. “So what does that mean?”

“It means…we can’t be together,” I say, and I hold his hands tighter in mine. “I’m sorry I let this go on so long, but I couldn’t stay away, I loved you–I love you–too much.” 

“You–” Peeta shakes his head in bewilderment. “You love me?” I nod again. 

“Then Katniss, there must be a way!” He says, standing and pulling me with him. “Why don’t you come inside and we can talk some more?” 

I shake my head. “I shouldn’t have even come here.”

“Come on,” he says, with a sigh. “I’ll make us some tea.” I follow him back inside, and sit at his kitchen table as he makes us some tea. I used to sit here and talk with him while he made us breakfast in the mornings, and the thought sends a jolt through my broken heart. I have to make it clear to Peeta that I’m leaving for good, today. That it’s better this way, even. 

He puts the bottle of champagne in the refrigerator while we wait for the kettle to boil. I see him put the ring box in the pocket of his pants too when he thinks I’m not looking. He joins me at the kitchen table and leans toward me, his palms open on the table, “Alright, I’m listening.” 

So I tell him. “I was born in 1813″–he raises his brows at that but doesn’t object–”on a small farm in Massachusetts. I can see things–visions–when I touch objects, I can see the object’s history. That’s why I prefer to wear gloves.”

“What about when you touch people?” he asks quietly, a blush on his cheeks. I’m sure he’s thinking about the times I’ve touched his bare skin with my hands. I shake my head.

“Nothing, then, just objects,” I say with a shrug and he nods, accepting this. I don’t tell him about the times my bare hands touched the sheets on his bed, his pillow, how I could see that I’d been the only woman who’d touched them. I try to keep people’s secrets to myself, I know too many of them as it is. 

“What else can you do?” he asks. The kettle whistles then and Peeta gets up to turn off the stove, returning with two small cups of tea for us. 

“Well, I–” I pause, I’ve never told anyone the full list like this before, I’m not sure where to start. “I’m faster than a human, I can see in the dark, and I can hear…very well, too.” 

I can see the light of recognition in Peeta’s eyes as he pieces together things that make more sense now, but he doesn’t say anything, he just nods again and takes a quiet sip of his tea. I take a sip of my own, it’s peppermint tea, and it helps to calm my nerves.

“I haven’t heard anything yet about why we can’t be together,” he says, setting his cup down with a quiet clink. “Katniss, I love all of you, not just the easy parts, and this is another part of you, the woman I love.” 

“Peeta,” I shake my head, he doesn’t understand. “I’m not ageing. At some point, you’d have to leave your family, your friends, everything behind if we were together. That’s not right. I can’t condemn you to that life. To  _ my  _ life.” 

“Stop,” Peeta says, anger in his voice now. “That is  _ my  _ decision to make!  _ I _ get to say what I can and can’t handle.” 

“You don’t understand,” I say, “because you haven’t had to do it before. I have.” 

“Because you didn’t let anyone in before!” Peeta says, and tears slip down my cheeks now. “I’m sorry,” he says, his voice calmer now. He comes to kneel before me and takes my face in his hands, brushing my tears away. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you. You’ve been alone a long time because you thought you had to be, I’m saying you don’t have to be.” 

Peeta fishes the ring box out of his pants pocket and opens it. It’s even more beautiful than it was in my vision, a small diamond in a silver band, with an etching like leaves around it. “Marry me, Katniss. Be with me. I will follow you anywhere.” 

“If you’re sure…” I say and he glares at me. “Then yes, I will marry you.” 

He kisses me then and his lips feel like home.

When he pulls back, I smile at my red lipstick smeared on his mouth, and his smile looks like the sun. I take off my gloves and he puts the ring on my finger with shaking hands, “Is this alright?” he whispers, and I know he’s referring to my bare skin touching the ring. I nod, because it’s just like clothes, I’ll get visions at first but then I’ll acclimate. 

He slides the ring into place and I’m hit with visions of Peeta’s mother wearing the ring, of Peeta himself as a child, and of Peeta’s grandmother wearing the ring as well, a gift from his grandfather. My head pounds as the images reel through my mind, giving me pieces of the man I love, understanding him better now that I see this piece of his past. 

I open my eyes to see Peeta in front of me, so nervous. My heart swells for him, for all that he endured in his past, and I crush him to me, promising silently to always be gentle with him, to show him nothing but kindness as long as he lives.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my tumblr at safeinpeetasarms. Thank you for reading!


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